


Before Judgment Day!

by iberiandoctor (jehane)



Category: Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 1980s, Astral Plane, Canon Compliant, Charles in Space, Claremont Era, Comics/Movie Crossover, Fix-It, International Court of Justice, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Post X-Men: First Class, Redemption, The Trial of Magneto, X-Men vs Avengers, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehane/pseuds/iberiandoctor
Summary: Before his second trial in Paris, Erik receives an unexpected visitor.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trobadora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Trobadora! You said you were keen on the comicverse version of Magneto and Xavier, and so am I <3 Here's a missing scene from X-Men vs the Avengers (1987) #4 _"Day of Judgment!"_.

It had been the Romans who had famously suggested that while men might err, only fools persisted in their error.

Erik suspected Cicero would have taken a dim view of his current circumstances. For the second time, the master of magnetism was in custody in the Conciergerie, awaiting trial before the International Court of Justice in Paris for crimes against humanity. 

In any case, Cicero might have appreciated the irony: the Conciergerie had seen the incarceration of Queen Marie Antoinette in her last days, and Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte, who had styled himself the Emperor Napoleon III — it was by anyone's measure a fitting prison for the former emperor of _homo superior_. 

Sitting in the specially-reinforced plastic cell, Erik allowed himself to imagine some capricious authorial hand pressing the re-wind button on his life, forcing him to relive one of its most excruciating episodes: his first trial before this Court, which had been rudely interrupted first by the children of Baron von Strucker and then by Charles Xavier's untimely almost-death.

It did seem unfair, though, that if he was compelled to revisit those days, he would have to do it without Charles Xavier at his side.

Indeed, Charles' presence had been the best and worst parts of the first trial. His old friend had insisted on joining his defence team despite a lack of any legal qualifications. Charles had spent hours on end engaging Gabrielle Haller and the rest of the legal team in debate over trial strategies and how to best tailor their arguments to the then-judges appointed by the UN Security Council. (Erik wondered what Charles would have said about the new tribunal empanelled for this resumed trial: notably Chief Judge DuMotier, whose aristocratic antecedents and monarchist leanings suggested he might harbour sympathies toward the anti-mutant movement.)

When the lawyers had risen for the day, Charles had returned with Erik to this cramped cell. They had read together from Marcus Aurelius' _Meditations_ , and the T.H. White that they'd enjoyed in Haifa years ago. They had spent time together on the astral plane as well, as they had not done for decades — there, Erik had finally visited the Bodleian Library and listened to the London Philharmonic, places which Charles had once promised to take him to but they'd never had enough time for. Of course they had played the chess they had always played, first as friends, and then in the quasi-friendly lulls between their numerous battles as enemies. 

When they had run out of these distractions, and had run out of words that they could safely exchange, they had sat quietly together, in as much peace as could ever exist between them.

That had been the best part. The worst, of course, hadn't even the anti-mutant tensions that had gripped Paris that summer. Those tensions hadn't changed; in fact they had exponentially increased, so much so that the security detail outside the Conciergerie was now as much for Erik's own protection as it was to protect the lawyers and staff who worked at the Palais de Justice from Erik himself. The Avengers and X-Men were all well aware that the city had become a teetering powder keg, and the verdict might well be the spark that set everything off.

No, the worst part of the first trial had been this: Erik had managed to resist Charles' dream for years, but this was the time that he'd succumbed.

Charles had believed in a world where humanity would come to accept its own extinction, where humans would learn not to fear and hate their genetic children. His grand dream was that of humans and mutants living side by side in peace. Erik had shared that dream, once, when they were both young and stupid and even more stupidly in love, and Charles had spent his later years trying to convince his friend and his enemy that they could share the dream again.

Charles had failed to convince him more twenty years ago, when Erik had claimed first the helmet and then the life of the Black King, and had become the mutant terrorist Magneto. The days on the road convincing their people to band together for a better future, the reckless nights together in Charles’ bed, the dreams and promises they had shared — Erik had left them behind on a beach in Cuba when he'd made his choice to walk away.

And still Charles had taken a bullet in the back for him, had kept trying to find some middle ground between them. Along the way they'd both taken other lovers — Lilandra and Lee weren't the first in that line, and wouldn't be the last — but they always kept returning to each other. They were each other's Great Unfinished Work, their intermittent campaigns against each other an ongoing conversation between estranged partners, who were unable either to live with each other, or to let each other go. 

Over the decades, Charles had tried and kept trying — as patient as Job and as persistent as Inspector Javert — and after so many years, with his last breaths, he had finally persuaded Erik to try as well.

Erik's resolve had already been weakened by a different sort of campaign. He'd harmed one of Charles’ students in the name of his dream; he'd been horrified by what he'd become; his relationship with Lee had convinced him humans could change after all. And his old friend, his oldest love, was dying, and had asked him for his help. 

Once again Erik cursed himself for an easily-manipulated fool. He should never have let himself be convinced he could bear Charles' burdens, could lead the X-Men and teach the New Mutants and fight for Charles' dream. " _Our_ dream, blast you!" that infuriating man had said, before leaving Earth with his alien princess girlfriend on a raft made entirely of _Deus ex machina_.

He wasn't Charles; he should have known he wouldn't be strong enough. Cyclops had left the team on his watch. The One from Beyond had killed the children in his care and then brought them back to life, and he had been powerless to help them. Morlocks had been slaughtered in the tunnels beneath Manhattan. Their kind had never been in more danger, had never needed him more, and yet he kept failing them. 

Despite his efforts, everyone kept seeing him as the mutant terrorist, as the criminal who had taken the lives of Admiral Suvorov and his crew, who had massacred men in Vinnytsia — the villain in the mask who would stop at nothing to further his own cause. He was not sure he could blame them. He'd even taken a shot at Captain America because he had thought the Captain also guilty of the anti-mutant bigotry all humans must experience. He'd been wrong, and that error had made him surrender at last to this resumed trial.

Charles should never have trusted or believed in him. Worse, Charles should never have vanished into space for almost a year without once trying to get in contact.

Erik was well aware his students had seen Charles and the Starjammers last month. They'd described in lengthy detail how Charles had helped them vanquish Warlock's sire; it seemed that, after the battle, Charles had sent the children back to Earth without so much as passing them a message for their substitute headmaster. Erik was trying, without much success, to not be bitter about all of it.

Enough of this for now. Erik knew there was a limit to the amount of self-pity he could indulge in, knew that he ought to turn in for the night. He would need all his wits about him when the trial proper started tomorrow. 

He left his computer on while performing his ablutions. When he returned to his desk, he saw he'd received an email from one of the students. 

  


_**To:** profmichaelxavier@xaviersacademy.com_

_**From:** soulsword@xaviersacademy.com_

_**Subject:** Tomorrow _

_Dear Professor M:_

_Good luck tomorrow! We're keeping our fingers crossed that you get to come back. Storm is the best, but we've all finally gotten used to you and don’t want to have to start over._

_Sincerely, Magik._  


_PS: if Dr. Haller messes up and you go to jail, Bobby says he'll come break you out. I told him it was a dumb plan._

 _PPS: my plan is much better, which is: I'll go find Professor X and he'll come break you out._

  


"Good luck with that, child," Erik murmured, in lieu of emailing Illyana a response. Charles wouldn't be so easily found. The girls had said they'd been forced to leave the Starjammers ship crippled in the M-31-1 quadrant of the Andromeda Galaxy; if that were true, it would take two Stargate jumps and six different hyperspatial crossings at warp before anyone could get anywhere near the man.

He deleted the email before he shut down the connection to the secure server. He appreciated Illyana's sentiment, but he didn't want to have to turn over evidence that suggested his students were conspiring to carry out an international jailbreak. 

Sighing, he climbed onto the narrow cot. He glanced at his book, decided not to read any further — he had already reached the middle section of _The Ill-Made Knight_ — and reached to turn off the lights. Sleep would be elusive, but this way he would at least be able to tell Ororo and Gabrielle that he had tried his best. 

He lay in darkness for a long time. 

  
  
  


Perhaps he did manage to drift off after all, because eventually he felt the rushing wind of the astral plane: a place which he had never entered without artificial assistance, or without Charles Xavier at his side.

In what must have been the dream, he saw the familiar reflective surfaces that weren't mirrors, the vast, cloudy void around him shot through with pinpricks of brightness. He heard the whispered thoughts and hopes and fears of the minds around him, the gifted ones lit up like globes of light. There was a metallic tang in his mouth and he realised he was tasting a dream of his own regret.

Then he saw a figure approaching him, limned in silver.

Charles Xavier, stronger and fitter than he'd seemed in years, was striding rapidly towards him as if crossing a vast bridge between worlds. He was dressed in the no-nonsense fatigues the children had described last having seen him wear. The stars that surrounded him were the stars of their own galaxy. 

He came to a halt in front of Erik. His eyes had surely never been this blue.

"Glad you worked out how to get here on your own," he said, smiling the infuriating smile that Erik used to want to knock or to kiss off his face. 

Erik was not about to ask where _here_ was, in case he was truly dreaming the most cruel dream in the known universe. 

Instead, he murmured, remembering how to make sounds in dreams and on the astral plane, "No thanks to you." He found his knees were unsteady; he took a slow step forward, and then Charles was holding his hand. 

Dream or astral projection or just wishful thinking, Charles' grip felt like it always had, like a welcome home.

Charles said, easily, "I'm on my way back, you know. We had a spot of engine trouble; that's why I sent the children on ahead. And the Imperial Guard is still on our tail, so we've had to make a couple of weeks' worth of evasive manoeuvres." Then his face grew serious. "But I'm coming back to you, old friend."

"You should have called ahead," Erik said, treacherous hope making him sarcastic. "If you've been keeping abreast of news on Earth, you might be aware I'm presently indisposed. In Paris, the scene of our old crimes."

Charles smirked. "You know we'll always have Paris." He squeezed Erik's hand. "And I _have_ been keeping abreast. I know about the massacre, and the Avengers, and the new trial. It's why I'm coming back."

Erik felt a tightness in his throat, a dream of tightness, an astral projection of tightness. "You're going to be too late. The trial starts tomorrow."

"Ah, hells." Charles let go off Erik's hand to rub his own forehead, and Erik could see how bone-weary the man actually was, the untold distances he'd travelled to try to get back home. "I'll ask Hepzibah to burn the circuits again, see if we can make better time." 

Erik took another step closer and put his hand on Charles' shoulder. "Be careful. Don't burn out on my account."

Charles was shaking his head. Under his hand, his eyes glinted with misery. "I'm sorry. I should be there with you, at your side, as I was the last time."

 _You're here now_ , Erik sent, before he could stop himself, and then had to scramble to prop his mental shields back up into place.

Charles' mouth crooked up at one corner in a very different smile. _I've missed you,_ he sent back. _What's this about you wearing your helmet again? You know I hate that helmet._

"I had to retrieve it when the asteroid crashed," Erik said aloud. He knew he was being deliberately evasive. He forced himself to tell Charles the truth that Charles would soon find out anyway. "Also there's this: the brain-shielding technology Shaw built into the helmet can be used to erase bigotry from the minds of humans. By force, if necessary."

Charles was silent for a long moment. "And you were going to use it?" he asked, hesitantly.

"I did use it. On the Captain. It didn't work."

"Perhaps because he isn't actually a bigot." Charles took the last step towards Erik, so they were standing chest to chest. "Promise me you won't use it. Even on the bigoted. It would be an incredible abuse."

Erik frowned. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one facing three lifetimes' worth of incarceration."

Charles' eyes were solemn. "It isn't easy for me. I, of all people, know how tempting it is to change minds, to use your gifts to push someone to make the decision you want." He shook his head. "But it would be a monumental abuse of power. As much a violation as what was done to you when you were a boy. Deep down, you know it too. It's impossible to wrest good from the heart of an evil deed."

His chest heaved with his vehemence; he took hold of Erik's shoulders. "You just need to trust that humans will do the right thing of their own volition. They may actually surprise you!" He tried to smile. "Besides, mindwipes tend to backfire. I'm afraid I learned that the hard way."

Erik gritted his teeth. By the eternal, this seductive, infuriating man was right. That, and it seemed he was still foolish enough to believe in Charles' dream — in their dream — after all.

"Fine. We'll try it your way. My fate will rest with my lawyers and my own charms." 

Charles' hands slid up to Erik's neck, long fingers digging in, not ungently. They were standing so close to each other that, were they in the waking world, Erik would have felt the heat of Charles' skin through their clothes. Charles' face had new lines that had not been there a year ago, and Erik wanted to trace every one with his mouth. 

_I have full confidence in Gabrielle's abilities. It's your charm I have my doubts about._

Erik let out the breath he didn't realise he could hold on the astral plane, or in his dreams. _I've missed you too, Charles._

"Show me," Charles said, and leaned in. 

Erik remembered how physical sensations were experienced on the astral plane — the caress of imagined lips, the hot slide of tongue, the urgent press of Charles' body. It had been twenty years, and it felt like yesterday.

"Was that convincing enough?" Erik asked, when they surfaced for the air they didn't need.

"I was sold on it from the start," Charles said. He curved his hand across Erik's cheek, his eyes a troubled glaze. He sent: _I know how hard it's been for you. You've done so well, nobody could've have asked for more. Believe me, I never meant to leave you._

Cicero might disapprove, but Erik knew he would persist in returning to this man, whom he had loved and lost and to whom he would always belong.

 _Stay now, then,_ Erik sent; _It's not as if I'd have been able to sleep anyway,_ and he opened his mind fully to his old friend at last. 

In their dreams, on this astral plane, desire came as easily to them as if it were truly yesterday, when they'd been young together — before bullets and infirmity and stubbornness had taken their future away, when they'd shared a dream of making the world safe for their people and for all people. Twenty years later, and it seemed it was a dream, and a love, that they so improbably shared again.

Perhaps it wasn't too late for them after all.

 _I'm not going anywhere_ , Charles sent, as he spread his arms in welcome and they took their pleasure from each other. _Whatever happens tomorrow, old friend, I'll be there._

**Author's Note:**

> In XvA's ["Day of Judgment!"](http://comicvine.gamespot.com/the-x-men-vs-the-avengers-4-the-day-of-judgement/4000-28355/), the Avengers bring Magneto back before the World Court in Paris to face trial (again) - the first trial having been adjourned indefinitely after the events of UXM #200's _"The Trial of Magneto"_ (where a dying Charles Xavier asks Magneto to take over the School of Gifted Youngsters, before being rescued by the Starjammers and vanishing into space). Immediately prior to XvA, the New Mutants were briefly reunited with Xavier in space (NM#50), and the writers inexplicably decided to leave Xavier in space during NM#51, without him even leaving a message for the X-Men or Magneto (even though the New Mutants would have told him that their new headmaster wasn't handling the whole heroing or headmastering thing particularly well).
> 
> XvA4 signals the real end of Magneto's mid-to-late 1980s redemption arc: there, Magneto decides to use the technology from his old helmet to alter the mind of one of the World Court justices so that he's set free. He then joins the Hellfire Club in NM#53, comes unstuck during the Fall of the Mutants storyline and Doug Ramsey's death in NM#61, flees to the Savage Lands, and formally Becomes Evil Again when he kills Zaladane in UXM#275. 
> 
> What effect would one visit from Xavier at the right time have had on his nemesis/ex-boyfriend/reluctant substitute headmaster-in-crisis? 
> 
> Story assumes a fusion between the comics and the X-Men Movieverse (so Haifa occurs first, then Erik's rescue from drowning, the Mutant Road Trip and Cuba). Details on Sh'iar space and Stargates from [here](http://marvel.com/universe/Shi'ar). My apologies for the Claremontian moping and general Claremontisms: e.g., Magneto does swear by the Eternal in NM#52, in which issue he also has a lovely extended scene with Magik.


End file.
